


Hagia

by merriell



Series: antarlina (e) [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriell/pseuds/merriell
Summary: 2022. Two weeks after their fight, Giri still had not send him any text messages.Antariksa Syailendra was dying both in sadness and in worry.
Relationships: Antariksa Syailendra/Girindra Wardhana
Series: antarlina (e) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1431253





	Hagia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antariksa Syailendra was dying with both sadness and worry.

It had been exactly two weeks after his fight with Giri.

With the busy week that had passed by, from fixing his team member’s mess after an experimental magic went awry, to writing approvals for ley lines research in Southeast Asia, Antariksa Syailendra had not had the time to deeply think about what had transpired between them. The argument barely had any space in his brain—not because he did not care but because he simply could _not_ —yet it did not prevent him from carrying his phone everywhere, tucking it safely on vibrate in his pocket, something that he hated see other people doing when they were working at the office. Shit, it might be that he was starting to understand why people go on such a length to keep their little connection to outer world so close to their heart.

This was the fifth time he glanced at his phone during the meeting in the last hour. He was still paying attention as his boss was explaining about the current events that had developed in the world, but his brain strayed every few seconds, thinking of how recently, Giri had made it his habit to storm off in the middle of their tough argument, leaving him with silence. After they had decided to go steady, fights had been the only thing constant in their lives. It could be caused by anything: the fact that he was too busy at work, Kanggani’s behavior, from the smallest, the most nitpicky things, to the heavy one that hung between them: Giri’s secrets.

Anta did not _mind_ secrets.

Seeing Kinan and his failed relationships with assholes, his mother and his father, he used to think boundaries between lovers was something that was vital for a relationship.

And, yet.

 _Yet_.

As the meeting concluded, Anta tidied the bundle of files he had to present when Summer gestured at him to stay. He continued tidying his things, nodding at his coworkers as they bid him farewell, but stayed at his seat, waiting for the room to empty out.

“Hey, Rick,” Summer adjusted the reading glasses she only wore to protect her eyes from blue light, walking over from her end of the table to his side. His boss was someone who he had grew fond of—maybe even _close_ with—over the years, due to her help towards his brother (and Aksa’s cronies) and the fact that Anta actually looked up at her. “I didn’t bring this up in the meeting earlier since the story’s still developing, it’s still vague, but I’ve heard,” and Anta had known then that when Summer put things that way, it meant, ‘ _my brother had talked to me about this_ ’, “that there’s a new recreational drug circling around in Indonesia.”

“I haven’t heard anything about it,” Anta answered, though of course he had not. During his time working at MDR, he had met Summer Patria’s brother a couple of times, one time when he was just hanging upside down outside of her office—he seemed... normal, to say the very least. He looked like the kind of man you’d expect to work at Wall Street, with his pressed suit. Back then, he tried not to think much about how Heinrich Patria had recognized him at once and started talking about Anta’s father’s company, its lack of heirs, and the big scandal that had ended with his brother almost getting murdered. Which he was sure Summer did not even know.

“Yes, the detail is still vague. The drug is a hallucinogen in the form of an elixir—my source said that it might be modified from a potion of some sort,” her manicured hand tapped unconsciously at the chair as she talked, “but the potion might not be registered or commonly sold. I want you to form a team to investigate it.”

Anta wrote it down at his tablet quickly. “Okay, I’ll pick several people from the Southeast Asia branch to work on this.”

“One more thing.”

“Yes, Miss Patria?”

“I told you it’s uncomfortable to hear _you_ call me that,” Summer shook her head. “Keep this under wraps. Once you find the names to work on this, send it to me so I can approve it.”

He nodded. He was halfway to picking names in his head when his phone vibrated. The vibration was so intense that he wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Summer’s eyes darted at his chest for once, raising her eyebrow in curiosity.

“Sorry. Can I?”

“You’ve been really occupied with the phone.” She observed, pressing her lips thin. “Is there something wrong? Has your brother made another mess?” Her usually business-served tone slightly turned softer as she made a fair jab at his brother.

Anta’s eyes darted at the screen. It _was_ Aksa, who was asking him where he was... he sighed in disappointment. Maybe he was still waiting for Giri to contact him first. “He’s doing fine,” he retorted, “I haven’t said thank you for giving him a chance to work on here.”

At that, Summer raised her eyebrow. “Don’t. He’s still on probation period.” She took a step back, glancing around the empty room as she did so. “I’ll send you a file on the information of the drug later, but I need you to acquire a sample so we can test on it. The scale of the sale is still small. It’s mostly word-of-mouth at this point, but the way it’s being talked about is making people very curious... and very eager to get their hands on it. It’d be hard to acquire.”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Anta smiled at Summer, “I’ll acquire some for you.”

“Please. I simply do not enjoy asking my brother for favors,” she snorted. “I’ll see the names soon, I presume.” With that, she walked out of the room, her short-heeled shoes clacking until it disappeared from his ears.

Alone in the room, Anta pulled out his phone and typed out a reply to his brother. _I was in a meeting. What’s wrong?_ He sent it quickly, finger hovering to the chat below it, a chat he had pinned in his messaging service. The last thing in it had been sent before they even fought, absolutely _nothing_ new in it, not even a short ‘ _lol_ ’.

It had been two _damned_ weeks.

Aksa’s notification came a few seconds later. _Cafeteria in 5?_

 _Okay_.

* * *

Magical Development and Research Department’s cafeteria always reminded him of the food section in IKEA—clinical and organized, yet somehow homey, despite it all. Often, he had no reason to drop by here, as Mami send him food every few days, whether it came in the form of food she cooked herself, or leftovers from brunch events, or whatever it was that his mother had been preoccupied with these days, and he ended up eating in his private office so he could work while he ate.

Aksa, on the other hand, was sitting on the desk at the center of the cafeteria, a half-eaten packaged lunch in front of him. The portion was smaller than Antariksa’s. Anta always thought that his brother was _far_ too skinny for the amount of time he spent hauling steel for his projects. He was also not alone. A familiar man with mixed features were sitting beside him—someone he recognized as Bimasena, Aksa’s high school friends.

Anta took a seat at the empty spot across of them. They both looked up when he did, Bimasena throwing a smile at him while Aksa fumbled with the alumunium spoon in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Anta lowered his voice as he asked. It wasn’t often that Aksa contacted him at all, let alone contact him during working hours.

“Making sure you’re okay.” Aksa, never the creature of _manners_ , shot at him at once.

Anta raised his brow at that. “Making sure I’m okay why?”

Aksa paused, turning his head to Bimasena’s direction, like he was asking for help. The other man’s face did not seem to change. Realizing that he would not receive assistance, Aksa pursed his lips and pointed the spoon at him. “I... never mind. Can’t I just have lunch with my brother?”

That sounded more suspicious than ever. Anta gestured his chin at the lack of food in front of him. “Stop acting strange,” he sighed. If Aksa only wanted company, the least he could do was to provide it—not that he needed it, considering that he wasn’t alone. But maybe, just _maybe_ , Anta was the one who needed it. “How are you?”

Aksa gave that a momentary regard. “Fine, I guess.”

“No more... memory lapse?” Anta asked cautiously.

Aksa’s face darkened slightly. “I’m _okay_ ,” he sounded nearly offended as he answered that, “don’t worry about that.”

Anta found himself scratching his head, feeling awkward all of the sudden. This sudden warmth between them had been a strange new sensation for him—after years and years of animosity he could not really understand where it was coming from—he sometimes felt like he was dropped into a middle of a story he did not realize was in. “How... how is your work here, then?” He darted his eyes at Bimasena. “I heard you have been mingling with the European branch. I expected you to be in the innovation branch...”

Something uncomfortable shifted between them. Bimasena, noticing this, raised his voice for the first time. “I don’t think he’s mingling with the European branch as much as he’s just curious about how managing ley lines work.”

Anta had liked him the most over Aksa’s choice of friends, as the calmer one, even more than Caca and her horrifying ability. Aksa’s other friends reminded him of Giri, especially that girlfriend and boyfriend of his, with her dark eyes and darker smile, with his recklessness and fire in his eyes.

He still shivered remembering what happened.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Was it your side of branch who suggested the research for ley lines in Southeast Asia?”

“I’m just a staff,” Bimasena smiled thinly. “Probably the other guys in my team.”

“Don’t say that,” Aksa frowned at him. “Your job doesn’t lack importance...”

“I didn’t say my job lack importance, Sa. I’m saying, research is just _not_ my forte.”

Anta peered at the interaction in front of him curiously. Out of Aksa’s choice of friends, Anta had been the least familiar with Aksa’s dynamic with Bimasena. The latter moved away at the height of their teenage years, leaving Aksa to mingle with others, something that Anta knew he must have hated. The situation, Anta noted, was similar with him. He understood at once, that Bimasena must be the _Kinan_ in the situation—even with years between them, they had fell back into their friendships so easily, like pieces of puzzles matching together. He was glad that Aksa had that kind of person with him amidst the storm that was his life.

“—I’m very inspired to make a _more_ proper way to detect irregularities in ley lines.”

Anta was shaken out of his daze in the middle of the words, staring quietly at Aksa as he droned on about a technomancy device for ley lines. Before Aksa could dump information that he didn’t truly have the time for, Anta raised his hand, gesturing for Aksa to give him a chance to talk. “Are you trying to throw an idea at me about your development pitch during lunch?” he asked in disbelief.

His brother had the _nerve_ to look offended. “No. Maybe. I’m just making conversation.”

They might have been less feral to each other lately, but it did not change the unbelievably _thoughtless_ Angkasa could be. “Sa,” he tried to do it gently, “you know, you’re on probation period. No, let me finish, okay? The boss already told you that you can develop whatever you want as long as it’s still in the budget she put aside for you.”

“I can’t believe she’s still putting me on probation period after _intermagical transfer device_.”

“This is not about your lack of ability.”

“If it’s not that, then what is it?”

Anta sighed. At the very least, this argument was distracting him from thinking about Giri. “Look, remember the contract she had you signed. It’s highly unconventional that she granted you a probation period without doing the training that other staffs do,” he glanced at Bimasena, who nodded in agreement, “especially that she put it on the dot that she’ll put you in the main development department if you manage to impress her on your development pitch.”

“I’m capable.”

“I know you are capable,” Anta nodded. “Just—just follow through with this, okay?”

“Okay.”

At the middle of this, his phone vibrated. His hand darted at once, almost panicked, the phone had not even stopped vibrating when he finally turned on the screen. His heart sank to his stomach as the notification, again, was not Giri, but the file about the hallucinogen that Summer had mentioned. The file read, _Ramayana.docx_.

“I hope he’s strong enough,” he heard Aksa mutter.

“Huh?” Anta’s hand shook as he put his phone back into his pocket.

“I want to say, I can’t imagine losing a father, but,” Aksa smiled sadly at Anta, “I think we get it, to certain point.”

Anta had no idea what he was talking about.

“Sure,” he said.

* * *

After he went back to his office, Antariksa started to organize the list of names for the Ramayana task force, feeling an ache racking away at the back of his head. It took him five minutes to glance at his phone again. It took him another two to grab it, opening the one social media account Giri had: a private Instagram under the name of _giriwardhana_. Like Anta’s own account, the updates were sparse, the most recent being a month ago, a picture of the dinner he had cooked up for Anta. Anta had saved Mami’s gulai chicken and sayur labu in favor for it, shoved it to the back of his fridge so he could taste Giri’s cooking.

Of course, even the only link he had with the outside world wasn’t even active. Anta sighed as he went back to Home, seeing Kinan’s private account—separate with his public one, who were filled of images upon images of his carefully constructed image for his campaign, Kinan’s private account was only followed by his selected friends and families, filled with his day-to-day activities that made him seem like an actual human being—pop up at the top. It was a picture of who seemed to be Reno, eyes covered with a RayBan sunglasses and lower half of his face covered by his arm, lounging at the beach chair on Kinan’s patio, the sun slowly rising in the sky.

Kinan was one of the few people Giri had keep in contact with after their graduation, because it was _Kinan_ , who paid attention and kind enough to maintain contact with people he treasured.

Something, apparently to Giri, was beyond of Anta’s capability.

It would not be impossible for Giri to call Kinan. They were best friends before them, a pair of mismatched school prince and his shadow.

Anta pressed the contact button for Kinan Mahardhika and dialed it. The dial tone buzzed in his ear for two times before it stopped, indicating the call was picked up. He hadn’t even open his mouth to say hello when he heard Kinan say, “Hi, you’re lucky Reno brought my phone to the beach, actually left it back home as I surf. What’s up?”

How convenient. Anta stared at his computer screen, lines upon lines of name, one of it being Bimasena Farkas. “Hey,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb, “sorry for disturbing you—“

“Don’t say that.”

“—okay, just. Have you heard anything from Giri these past two weeks?”

A pause. “Did you two fight?”

Kinan did not say it, but Anta could hear it very clearly, the silent ‘again’ loud, hammering inside his chest. They really did fought so often that none of his two friends seemed so surprised to hear it. There was a hushed whisper at the other end, and another with a lower voice. “Yes, we fought again. So? Have you heard anything from him?” he asked, continuing to rub the bridge of his nose, the headache not relenting even slightly.

“Not recently. But a week ago he called me to ask where I am, but I was at a meeting...”

“Did he sound okay?”

“Ta,” Kinan’s voice turned gentle, “is there anything that happened that makes you think he’s not okay?”

Mami used to say that he needed to actually say things, to be vulnerable, so people had capability to truly connect emotionally to him. In his mind, he could see Giri glaring at him at the other end of the kitchen isle, his eyes burning with a quiet rage, knuckles white as it clawed the marble. Something large was inside his throat, choking him. He didn’t quite know what it was. “It’s been two whole weeks, and I haven’t heard anything from him,” he sighed it out, “and, and. It’s just. I’m worried. He usually, at the very least, sends me a passive aggressive text, or something.”

“Can I talk?” A different voice chimed in, making him realize he was on loudspeaker the whole time. Of course, those two shared _everything_ to each other these days. Quite unlike him. “You know where he lived, right?”

“Yes.”

“I think, rather than wait for him to send you a message, so that there’s no further fight,” another pause as Reno seemed to be searching for words—something that seemed odd to him, “I think. You should go there.”

Anta was this close to responding sarcastically, _I mean, of course, that’s never crossed my mind before_. But Reno was in some ways right—Anta could very well text Giri right then, and waited for God-knows-how-long until he replied. Or he could simply go to Semarang and confront Giri at once.

“Tell me if you need my help, okay?” Kinan’s gentle voice retorted before he could reply, because Kinan was _Kinan_ , who couldn’t quite comprehend that in some ways, they should very well be able to handle this kind of conflict by themselves.

“I’ll update you if something is wrong,” Anta said before hanging up.

* * *

That was how he was standing in front of Giri’s house, a small frown edging at his lips. It seemed somehow familiar to be right here during yet _another_ fight, like the first time he had met Kanggani, It wasn’t the first time he visited since then, the two of them switching where to sleep every once in a while, and separating every now and then. Yet, he felt like he was a stranger here again, staring at the vacant banyan tree that housed no girls with long black hair.

Anta pushed open the fence, unlocked, the steel creaking in protest. A beat up yellow flag was stuck in the far end of the fences, making his eyebrow raise. It must have been another of Kanggani’s pranks—the house was as creepy as it was, even without any sign of death, with food and vegetable sellers pushing their carts as quick as possible when they pass. Once he heard passing neighbor from another street saying that they kept seeing _kuntilanak_ at the banyan tree, further solidifying the myth of ghost residing in the house.

They would be right, of course, or at the very least half right. After Kanggani had confessed what she was, Giri explained further the difference between ghosts and demons. The girl-shaped creature was the latter.

It was odd to not see any of her figures anywhere. It was becoming a habit for her to greet him at the entrance. Pushing the fence closed, he walked in and called for her loudly, “Kanggani?”

The house was dirtier than he remembered. A few dirty glasses, the rim dry with coffee stains were scattered on the bamboo long chair, thankfully empty, but would need a concentrate of household magic to get the stain out. Ignoring it, he knocked at the glass window.

“Kanggani?”

“Hey, Antariksa.”

The sound came from behind him, startling him completely. His heart jumped out of his chest as he pressed his forehead in the sill. “Can you stop surprising me like that? You almost gave me a heart attack,” he turned to the direction of the voice.

Kanggani was fidgeting from one feet to the other. She was in her usual form, this time wearing a dress made of cotton-and-lace, intricate, like one of those Victorian mourning dresses he saw in the History Channel. Her straight jet-black hair was tied up into a tidy ponytail that pulled back her hairline. “Giri did not tell me you were coming,” she said, staring at the floor.

“I didn’t tell him I was coming,” Anta replied. In retrospect, he probably should have notified him that he was there and not basically broke in without invitation, but they were in a relationship, Goddamn it. “It’s a bit unusual to see you in something presentable.”

“Oh, yes,” Kanggani continued fidgeting, “need to be proper and neat.”

“Is... Giri around?” he glanced to the inside of the house. All the lights were off, but he knew that Giri tend to turn off the electricity unless it was absolutely necessary—to cut corners in the maintenance.

“He’s not.”

“Is...” Anta scratched his head, “Is Pak Krisna around?”

Something in Kanggani’s face shifted for a moment before she shook her head. “He isn’t either,” replied her with a small frown.

Antariksa let out a small sigh of relief. He didn’t know how to explain why he tend to avoid Krisna Wardhana, Giri’s absent father who passes by in the house like a ghost, never lingering, his presence as transparent as cigarette smoke. Only his smell remained—old tobacco and _kemenyan_ , like the smell of Ami’s magic when she stopped time—in the house that seemed so much like it belonged to Giri.

He glanced at the abandoned glasses at the bamboo chair and something itched inside him.

“If he’s not around, can I stay and wait? I can clean this up,” he also glanced at the yard, where dried leaves from the banyan tree were scattered.

Kanggani stared at him for the first time that evening and pressed her lips thin. She was quiet for a second, before she hesitantly nodded.

Tidying things up will get his mind off things. It would only be momentarily, but a momentary peace from all his thoughts would be perfect inside a house that screamed Giri's presence.


End file.
